Writings on the Wall
by Becca Bing
Summary: Never underestimate the power of the written word…
1. Chapter 1

Writings on the Wall – Chapter 1 

**_A/N:_**_So, like, I know I shouldn't do more than one fic at once, since I barely have time to update one, but I had this sudden inspiration that I just couldn't ignore and homework that **could **ignore. (Not should, but could.) This fic is very different from my others, I think. It's a little…odd, I guess. But, if you can get past that, then please, try it. ;) Hopefully, it's not too far-fetched. Well, I guess I'll just see, eh? Please read and review, thanks! :) _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own the characters in this fic…_

**__**

Phoebe walked dreamily though the park, humming a happy tune to herself. She took in a deep breath of the crisp December air. Her nose and cheeks were nipped pink from the cold, yet she was unfazed. Instead, she enjoyed the peacefulness of the early morning, as the tree branches rustled in the wind and her hair flew over her eyes.

She should have been in school. Yet, how could she stay in class all day? There was a perfectly beautiful world, which the teachers never taught about, just outside the window. It didn't seem like she was breaking any rules, when she was merely experiencing life firsthand. In fact, the only crime would be keeping her inside. 

Aside from a few straggling joggers, the park was completely empty. There were no children playing on the swings, no babies crying, no couples kissing on the benches. It was in the perfect state of abandonment. She sat down behind a large tree, overlooking a bike trail, and pulled out a notebook and pen. 

The words hadn't yet left her fingers, although she could feel them at the brink. She shut her eyes and imagined a world full of letters and colors, willing the geyser of inspiration to overflow. Instead, she heard a rusting behind her, and, before she could open her eyes, she felt the cold steal against her neck and everything went completely black.

- - - - - - - -

Monica smiled as she walked down the hall, her boyfriend's strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she truly belonged in her school. Whenever she would pass by the other girls, they would prod elbows into each other's ribs and whisper. They were jealous. Monica's smile grew, and, her boyfriend, thinking it was directed at him, smiled back. She blushed. 

When they arrived at Monica's locker, he pushed gently pushed her back against the locker and kissed her. Monica couldn't help but feel slightly self-conscious as her boyfriend's hands reached lower and lower down her back. Still, she didn't want to say anything. It was normal to see a couple engaged in a tight tryst throughout the school hallways. She didn't want to seem apprehensive. If he was happy, she was happy.

It was odd though because, through her first three years of high school, Monica had managed to convince herself she wanted nothing to do with those types of people. However, once confidence in herself replaced the barriers of obesity, she found herself wanting to become just like everyone else. It might have been shallow, but since she was finally able to, she wanted to fit in. 

Once the couple broke apart, her boyfriend rested his forehead against hers. Monica looked up at him and smiled demurely.

"You gonna come to my game today?" he whispered. 

"Of course."

He smiled. "Great. Wanna get going?"

"You know what? I'll meet you there. I have a few things to do first."

"All right, but don't come too late. You wanna get a good seat."

She smiled, "I won't, John. Don't worry."

"Great," He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, "I'll see you soon."

"Okay, bye."

Monica watched him walk down the crowded hallway, until she could no longer see him through the sea of anxious students, and grinned. She then faced her locker and began turning the knob, until the green lock clicked and she was able to open the door. She put her bag on the floor, removed a math book, and carefully aligned its binding with the rest of the books that stood in tidy order. She examined the locker thoroughly, fixed a piece of paper that was protruding from one of her binders, and then closed the door. 

She was about to walk past her locker, when something caught her eye. In a space in between her locker and the next set of lockers, there were some new markings scratched into the white paint, revealing the wood behind the few layers of paint. She looked around, and, upon seeing none of her friends, moved closer. 

Beauty lies knee deep 

_In a sea of tears._

_Yet all that is felt_

_Is the salt against open wounds._

She read the poem over a few times, and then read over some of the older ones. She had seen this wall before. In her head, it was the 'wall of writings'. It was covered with anonymous poems. Sometimes, when her day would be really hectic, she would stop and study the poems there. 

She never knew who wrote them, nor did she normally read or write poetry. Yet the poems on that particular wall always touched her. The writer intrigued her. There was always hope in her mind that one day she would find out who the author of the wall was. Of course, she would never let anyone know about the wall. They would probably laugh. This was her little secret. 

Intent on memorizing the words of the newest poem before she left, Monica read it over and over again quickly. Then, she closed her eyes and repeated the words in her mind. She opened them and again and tested herself. It was memorized. She ran her fingers over the engraved words, while reading the poem again. Before she could lift her fingers from the wall, she began to feel weak and dizzy. Then, everything went completely black. 

- - - - - - -

Slowly, Monica's eyelids began to flutter open. It took a lot of effort. They felt heavy, protective over her eyes. She looked around, anxiously trying to figure out where she was, but everything was blurry. She had no recollection of what happened and the harder she attempted to recall it, the more her head throbbed in pain. 

"Monica, dear?"

The familiar voice soothed her, as she looked up at the source of the sound and attempted to focus. She tried to talk. Her throat was too dry. She swallowed a few times, but it was all in vain. It felt like her throat had been replaced with sandpaper.

"Mom?" she managed to choke out.

"Yes, honey. It's your mother," she stroked Monica's hair, "Don't worry. You're okay now."

She rapidly blinked, and things began to become clearer in front of her. "Wha – what happened?" 

"We don't know," Judy whispered, as she continued to stroke Monica's hair, "But don't worry about that right now."

"Yes Princess," Jack's booming voice came from behind them, as he walked over to her bed and grasped her hand, "All that matters is that you're okay."

"I…okay, but –"

Monica was cut off as Ross entered the room dejectedly. Suddenly, his demeanor perked up more when he noticed Monica was awake.

"Monica! You're okay! What happened? Do you remember anything?!"

"Ross," Jack admonished softly, "Now, don't bombard your sister with questions. She's not completely better yet."

"I – I don't know what happened. I can't remember. I was standing at my locker and then…and then…I was here."

"That is _so _odd."

"Yeah…"

- - - - - - - -

Ross sat down beside Monica, on the hospital bed. She had been in the hospital for three days. Test after test had been conducted; yet they could find nothing that would have caused Monica to faint. No drugs, no starvation, no signs of injury. Finally, by the third day, the doctors decided it was one of those strange, inexplicable occurrences that the human body sometimes experienced. If, by that evening, there were no signs of sickness, Monica would be released with nothing but a heavy watch upon her. 

Hope was strong that she would be able to leave. She was beginning to feel bored of being cooped up in the hospital bed for so long. There was nothing to do, besides think. In fact, she was not allowed to get up, or even have visitors, outside of the family.

"So, what's new at Lincoln High?" Monica asked.

"Um, not much. It's only been three days."

"Yeah, I guess. It feels so much longer though! I'm so bored here!"

"Well, you get to leave tonight..."

"Hopefully."

"You will."

"I can't wait."

It was silent as both Ross and Monica focused their attention on the television. The four o'clock news was just beginning. Monica's eyes were focused on the television, but her mind was elsewhere. It made her nervous that no one could find out what was wrong with her. What if she was deathly ill, just when her life was starting to fall into place? Of course, she knew she was thinking irrationally. That was highly unlikely. Still, she couldn't help but think it was all a tad suspicious…

"Monica?"

"Huh?" she asked, snapping quickly out of her daze.

"I just asked you a question."

"Oh, you did? Sorry, I'm still not…feeling a hundred percent yet."

"It's okay," he pointed to the television, "I wanted to know if you'd heard about Phoebe Buffay."

"Phoebe Buffay?" she asked, recognizing the name, but unable to place the face, "No, what happened?"

"She was…murdered."

"Murdered? Oh my God. When?"

"It happened Monday morning."

"Oh wow. Hey," she realized, "Wasn't she dating your friend, umm…?"

"Chandler?"

"Yeah, him."

"Yeah, she was."

"Wow, I can't believe someone from our school was killed! So…how's Chandler handling it?"

"He hasn't really…reacted yet. He just shrugs whenever anyone tries to bring it up."

"Oh wow," Monica mused, "Was there a funeral?"

"Yeah, but it was a small one – only family there. Her church's having a memorial service on Monday, though."

"Are you going?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I want to go."

"Okay…"

Monica was surprised at her desire to go to the memorial service. She hadn't known Phoebe. In fact, Monica wondered, if she had seen her, would she have even recognized her? Phoebe had been a grade ahead of Monica and was the type who would rather smoke pot in the back of a van than go to a football game. They had little in common. Still, there was this unexplainable, almost separate, voice in the back of her head, urging her to go. Although she didn't know why she felt it, she did know she couldn't miss that service. 

**_A/N: _**_So yeah, there you go. Yes, no, maybe so? Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! Just, if you can, maybe keep your punches above the belt, okay? (unless your Matthew Perry, of course, mwahaha)  _

_Ou, I miss my Yen. =( _


	2. Chapter 2

**_Writings on the Wall_**_– Chapter 2_

**_A/N: _**_Wow, thanks for the nice reviews! I was happy people like this fic cuz I kinda do. Yeah, look out for my update buddy, **JenniGellerBing** with **The Valentine**. It's an awesome fic, and I'm sure you've all read it already. If you've been living under or something and haven't read it, then…what are you waiting for?! :p Heh, okay, please read and review, thanks!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own the characters in this fanfic, but I do co-own this conversation…_

_Me: i jinxed it_

_Yen: knock on wood!_

_Yen: *knocks on bec's head*_

_Me: ouch, its not wood:-(_

_Yen: hahahaha_

_Me: it might be hallow though_

_Yen: hahah exaaaaaaaaactly_

_Yeah, she's mean. Nevermind reading her fic afterall. :p j/k_

- - - - - - - - - - -__

Ross, John, and Monica walked into the chapel silently. John's arm immediately wrapped instinctively around Monica. The room was large, but simple. She was suddenly reminded of her great-grandmother's funeral. She looked around nervously. Death made her feel uneasy. It was crowded. The death of a teenage girl didn't often happen in their community. Monica recognized classmates, teammates, parents, siblings of friends…  she tried to remember another time when she had seen so many of these faces together in one room. She could not. Why were people only brought together by death? 

She noticed her former biology lab partner, Daniel Stein. He gave her a mournful look. After a painful moment, she broke his gaze. Her eyes danced around the room once again. They fell upon yet another sorrowful look. She bore her eyes into the ground instead. All who gathered mourned, yet everyone also felt relief. They mourned Phoebe's death, yet felt relived that it was not anyone special to them. It wasn't their girlfriends, their best friends, their daughters, and most of all, it wasn't themselves… it was just the weird girl with blond hair. Merely another underachiever overlooked. 

_But aren't those the reasons I'm here, too?_  she mumbled under her breath, _Didn't __I just come here out of pity? _ She didn't know Phoebe well. In fact, she had never even said a single word to the girl. Yet, there she was; searching for a place to sit… how could she really care about someone she didn't even know? 

Suddenly, a wave of coldness engulfed her body. She could almost feel her blood freeze in their veins. She shuddered violently, fighting off the bitter cold. John tightened his grip around Monica and turned to face her.

"You okay, babe?"

Monica stood stone-like in her spot for a moment. The chill was gone. The heat returned to her body, and she felt it rise to her cheeks and spread across her limbs, her fingers tingling. 

She licked her lips. "Yeah," she answered unsteadily, "I'm okay."

"You cold?"

Monica nodded and, a moment later, so did John. Yet, he knew just as well as she did that it was abnormally hot inside the chapel. He pressed no further, but his watchful eye on her proved all that was left unsaid. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Phoebe was a fine, young woman," came a booming voice from the pulpit, "She cared unconditionally for, not only people, but animals as well. She volunteered every Saturday at the animal shelter. She was an asset to this community," the man paused to emphasize his point, "She will truly be missed…"

Monica shut her eyes and balled her fists up tightly. This man – the school's principal – was talking about Phoebe, as if he knew her. But he didn't! Monica didn't know _how _she knew this, but she could tell her had never spent more than two minutes with the girl. So, how could he possibly know all of this? Two days before – three at the most – he probably sent his secretary out to interview friends and family, to check her records, to speak with teachers. How artificial. 

How utterly artificial it all felt. This was death. It was real. You can fake life, but you can't fake death. It all made her so angry that she could feel her head throb in frustration. "Why are you all here?!" she wanted to scream. "Go back to your lives! Do all your stupid little chores because staying here won't bring her back!" she felt tears sting her eyes, "It won't bring her back and you don't care, anyway. So why bother?" But she kept her mouth shut and left words unsaid. She breathed in deeply instead. 

Monica had to get out. The walls were closing in her. Every way she looked, each direction that caught her eye, brought the falsehood closer and closer in towards her. It would swallow her up – she was sure of this – if she didn't move. She craned her neck around. All the people, all the shapes, all the colors were swirling together. Everything was turning black. It was dark and she was lost in a world where nothing mattered, anymore. She wanted to prick herself, to make sure that she was merely dreaming, but couldn't move her hands. 

Suddenly, she felt herself rip out of the darkness. She fell back against the wooden bench's backrest behind her. Her head hung down loosely by her neck. She opened her eyes. John and Ross were apprehensively studying her. Slowly, she brought her hands over forehead, over her eyes, and then over her face before dropping them on her lap. She couldn't feel anything.

"Monica?" she heard her brother whisper. She looked in his direction. The voice sounded like it was distant. "Monica, are you okay?"

"I – I – I…need some fresh air," she answered in a foreign, raspy voice, "I'll be right back."

Before anyone could escort her, she stood up and ran out of the room. There would be no looking back, for the fear of the blackness of the surrounding people's hearts was all too prominent in her mind.

Quickly, she jogged down the side of the building. Her eyes looked upward, towards the sky. She found that the clouds, like pillows to her thoughts, comforted her. Her mind was racing faster than her heart. The memory of the colors and shapes swirling together into one darkened paste played in her mind. She was convinced the world was ending. 

Her feet hit the pavement in an unsteady rhythm; they moved too fast for her body. She was running on an incline, but she couldn't tell the difference. Her feet didn't even feel like part of her body. The beating heart and racing mind inside her were all that remained true. 

She ran past the buildings, into a sea of trees at the end of the residential strip. There was a rock. She stumbled. The right side of her body crashed into something.  Something soft. She fell backwards. Suddenly, she could feel the wet ground against her back, the dirt caked on her hands, the warm rays of sun against her face. She closed her eyes, allowing herself time to feel these familiar sensations. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring into a pair of blue eyes. She screeched and slid her body backwards, crashing into a tree. She stopped and looked up vulnerably.

"Are you okay?" the owner of the eyes wondered, slowly backing up from her.

"I…yeah," she mouthed the words before she spoke again, "Chandler!"

The man furrowed his brow. "Yeah... Who are you?"

"I – I don't –"

"Geller..."

She just nodded.

"Wow. You look really, really…different." 

Chandler held out his hand to help her up. After some hesitation, she grasped it. For a moment, they held each other's hands and locked eyes. Monica allowed the oddly familiar heat of his hands to pass through hers, into her heart. Suddenly, he paled and let go of her hand, causing himself, as well as Monica, to fall against the ground. He scampered a few feet away. Chandler pointed a finger at her, gaping. 

"Your eyes…your…they were blue! They were blue and they turned brown and now they're blue again!" He breathed in and out loudly. "This is insane. I must have imagined it." He looked anywhere but at Monica and muttered, "It must have been the sun…behind the clouds or…or something."

Monica merely stared at him, dumbfounded. Where was she? She began to look around apprehensively. She couldn't even remember leaving the church, let alone how she ended up in her position on the ground. He stood up and started towards her again. He held his hand out and this time it was Monica who scattered out of his grasp. "Who are you?!"

"What?" 

He moved closer to her, but she squirmed away from his reach again. 

"You know who I am! You just told me a minute ago!"

"I did?"

"Are you okay? Did you – oh my God -- did you hit your head?!"

She placed a hand against the back of her head. "I…don't know."

"We should get inside. You could be really hurt."

However, she continued to stare at him, head cocked to the side. He looked familiar…

Chandler looked up the hill, where the church stood in the distance. "Did your brother come with you?"

Suddenly, she gasped. "Chandler! You're Chandler!"

"Yeah…"

"Ross' friend!"

"Uh-huh."

"You dated Phoebe!"

He bit his lip and nodded. 

"Oh, I'm…I didn't mean –"

"Nah, it's all right. I mean I'm okay."

She brought herself to a sitting position against a tree and looked up at him. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah..."

"Death is only part of life, though."

He laughed sardonically. "You're right. Death is a part of life. It's the last part." She stared at him, at a loss for words. He took off his gray overcoat and draped it around Monica's muddy body. "We should really get you inside."

"Did you love her?"

He stared down at her, taken aback by her question. She was surprised at the bluntness of her question, but she didn't back down. She felt an unexplainable need to know this. After a moment's hesitation, he looked down at his shoes, "Yeah, I think so."

"I think she loved you, too. I don't think she wanted to let go."

Chandler looked up at Monica, unable to question her words. He was aware that Monica and Phoebe had never spoken. Still, he wanted to believe Monica. He needed to believe her. His heart was searching for closure – even in the smallest, unreliable forms. 

"Thanks…but we should really get back."

Monica nodded and allowed Chandler to help her to her feet. He wrapped the coat around Monica's small frame more carefully, before taking her hand and guiding her back to the chapel. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Chandler was the first to notice Ross, followed by John, run over to them as they headed towards the front of the building. A puzzled Ross looked from his dirt-covered sister, towards his friend, and back at his sister again. However, it was John who was the first to speak.

"What happened to her?!"

Monica turned towards Chandler and watched as he formulated an answer in his mind. If she didn't even know the answer, how could he?

"She was walking down the hill," he pointed to the side of the church, "And she slipped. I walked by and I saw her on the ground. I gave her my coat because she was wet."

"Thanks so much, Chandler." Ross replied, as he grabbed his sister's hand and whispered words of encouragement in her ear.  

John, however, studied Chandler skeptically. The story wasn't enough. 

"Why were you out here in the first place?"

"I needed somewhere to think," he pointed to the church, "Can't get much thinking done in there – with all those speeches and…stuff." 

"You could've gotten me."

"I wasn't gonna leave the girl lying on the ground!"

John and Chandler locked eyes angrily. John was about to retaliate, when Ross stepped in.

"Look, it's not a big deal! Monica's fine now, aren't you, Mon?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," she turned towards John, "Don't be mad. He helped me and that's it."

John gave Chandler one more suspicious look before he returned his gaze to Monica. "As long as you're okay…"

Monica smiled slightly, "I am, sweetie."

"Okay," he replied, and kissed her softly on her lips. 

She smiled into his eyes and then looked up, wanting to say something more to Chandler. However, by that time, he had disappeared. 

"Ready, babe?"

Monica turned her attention back towards John and nodded. She allowed him to lead her to Ross' car, with Ross following uncomfortably behind them. She laced her fingers with John's, too weary from the day's occurrences to analyze most of it. She was even completely oblivious to Chandler, watching her from the other side of the church building. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

**_A/N: _**_I wanna take this time to shout-out to David (the board pimp), Ariel (the crazy one), Renata (the official smilie wedding singer), and all the other crazy posters at Courteney-fan.net 's Courvid Boards. It's an awesome place where you can discuss Courteney and David Arquette, and, when you're not doing that, you can marry smilies! :D (www.courteney-fan.net/forum if you're interested.) _

_Heh, sorry about the plug. Please leave me a review, thanks! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Writings on the Wall_** _– Chapter 3_

****

**_A/N: _**_Happy 2004 everyone! (it is 2004, right?) Now I'm gonna havta remember to put '04 on all my papers…like I need something else to confuse me. :pMy last update before school starts again. *sob* This is evil! Anyway, I'll probably be updating **Easy Lover** tomorrow, in case anyone was wondering… yeah, no one was. Anyway, please read and review, thanks! :)_

**Disclaimer:**_I don't own any of the characters in this story, and I especially don't own Orlando Bloom. No one owns him. If anyone claims this *cough*yen*cough* then you should know that they're lying to you. Bwahahahaha (that was my work laugh, btw) :p _

Monica knocked loudly on the white panel door. She then shifted in her spot anxiously as she waited. She looked around. The sun shone a faint orange as it set. A breeze set in, and Monica wrapped her black coat closer to her body. The door opened slowly, revealing a puzzled blond-haired woman. Monica smiled nervously.

"Hi, I'm Monica," she held out her hand, revealing a gray coat, "Your – uh – Chandler lent this to me a few days ago. I just wanted to return it."

A scowl remained on the woman's face for a few moments, before it broke into a wide grin, revealing unnaturally white teeth. 

"Well, Monica, why don't you come in then?"

"I, uh, well, I should be getting ba –"

"Nonsense!" she insisted, "Chandler will be thrilled to see you!"

"He would?"

"Sure!" the woman continued, as she ushered Monica through to the living room.

"So, Monica, can I get you anything?"

"No thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, don't, don't say ma'am," she winked at Monica, "It makes me feel old. Call me Nora."

Monica just nodded uncomfortably. 

"Why don't you have a seat, while I get Chandler, dear?"

"Okay, thank you very much."

Nora smiled and nodded, before hurrying up the beige-carpeted steps.

Monica looked around the room. It was quite lavishly furnished, complete with high ceilings and wooden floors. She sat down on the edge of the white couch, feeling highly out of place in her jeans and sweatshirt. Monica tapped her foot nervously and waited. After a minute, Monica heard Nora yell something and then trek down the stairs angrily. When she noticed Monica, her demeanor changed back to cheerful. 

"You should just go on upstairs and visit him. He's being stubborn."

"I could just, umm, come back another time. I'm sure he –"

"No! Go on!" she laughed, "You know how men can get!"

"Sure…"

Monica rose and began to head to the stairs. When she passed, Nora leaned closer and whispered, "I'm so glad you're here. You know, he's been pretty depressed ever since that weird blond girl he was dating died."

"Well, I mean, I'm not, I mean…" she paused and noticed Nora's expectant look, "Yeah, I could imagine."

She smiled and pointed up the stairs. "He's the second door on the left."

Monica nodded and headed slowly up the stairs, Chandler's gray coat draped across her shoulders. 

When Monica reached Chandler's room, she stood there for a minute. Chandler probably didn't even know she had come inside. He would probably be mad to see her in his home. After all, she was invading his privacy, especially since she had stopped by unannounced. Monica was about to turn around, and attempt to sneak past Chandler's mother, when she heard muffled guitar music through the door. She stopped and listened as he played. It was so beautiful. It was familiar. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She felt at peace. She stood there until the song ended, and she snapped out of her daze. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she noticed what she had done. Set on leaving, she draped his coat on the doorknob, and turned to leave, but instead heard Nora's voice on the telephone. She couldn't just leave. His mother had seemed so intent on having Monica visit Chandler. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, she knocked on the door. 

"Mom!" he yelled through the door, "I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want to talk!" 

Monica blinked, unsure of what to do next. She knocked again. She heard something slam down, and then rustling coming from inside. Suddenly, the door swung opened. Chandler opened his mouth to yell again, but, upon noticing Monica, he stopped at stared at her. 

"Mo – Monica?"

"Hey Chandler."

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I wanted to give you back," she took the coat off the door knob, "Give you back your coat." She held it out stiffly to him. 

He nodded and grabbed the coat. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She turned to leave, but stopped abruptly and turned around.

"I'm sorry about coming up here. I hope you're not mad."

"No, it's okay."

"I mean, I just wanted to drop it off, but your mother –"

Chandler sighed. "God, my mother. She drives me crazy."

Monica smiled. "Whose doesn't?"

"Well, your brother doesn't seem to mind her. He's always asking them for permission before we do _anything_."

"I don't do that."

"I didn't say you did. He's a great guy."

She laughed a little. "Okay," she paused, "Was that you playing the guitar?"

He blushed. "Yeah, it was."

"Wow, you're really great!"

Chandler shook his head. "I'm really not. I just play during my spare time – not for people or anything, either."

"What were you playing? It sounded so familiar…"

Chandler's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Uh, Phoebe wrote it…"

"She did?" Monica blinked rapidly, "Oh, I must've been…confusing it with something else or…something."

He nodded. "Knowing her, she probably just ripped the tune off of some cat litter commercial or…something."

Monica chuckled, but couldn't help feeling uneasy under Chandler's puzzled stare. 

"I should get going. My mom doesn't know I'm out."

He tore his eyes from her face and laughed bashfully. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see ya," Monica whispered.

After one last glance, Chandler broke eye contact, and walked back into his room. Monica watched until he closed his door, and then she headed down the stairs slowly. 

- - - - - - - - - -

Monica sat down at the dinner table and sighed. She was suddenly not in the mood to eat. Her parents would make her, though. It was impolite to sit at the dinner table and not eat anything. She took some broccoli and began to nibble at it slowly. She half-heartedly listened as Ross excitedly relayed the events of his day to them. She didn't feel like listening today. Her brother was always bragging about his achievements, and her parents only made it worse. It wasn't that she didn't like her brother; she just didn't like him when her parents were around. 

"Monica?" her mother called, snapping her out of her daze.

She looked up, "Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to eat some chicken, dear?"

"Uh, no thank you. I'm not really hungry."

"Now, I know you're thin and all now, but you need to eat!"

"But mom – "

"Then just take a small piece."

Monica looked over towards her dad, who just nodded in agreement with her mother. 

Monica sat back and allowed her mother to put a drumstick on her plate. She sighed and picked at it. 

"Do you not like my cooking?" Judy asked suddenly, "I know you're the big chef here, but I was hoping you could be big about it and just eat!"

"I wasn't saying that."

"Fine, then eat it."

Monica sighed and inwardly cringed, as she took a piece of chicken off and swallowed it. 

"Finish it," her mother instructed.

Monica slowly picked off pieces and ate them. When her mother was satisfied, she turned back to Ross and began to ask questions again. Monica rolled her eyes and continued to pick at her food. 

When Monica finished, she threw down her fork and said horridly, "Okay, I'm finished, may I be excused?!"

Before anyone could answer, Monica ran to the bathroom. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

After dinner, Monica snuck out the back door and walked to school. She entered the gym, and watched as the boys competed in a game. She was so confused about what was happening. Was she sick? Aside from the vomiting she did before, she didn't feel sick. It was hard to not worry. There were so many suspicious things happening to her. She had felt hungry, until she saw dinner, and then began to feel sick. She kept blanking out. It didn't sound like any sickness she had ever heard of before. 

During halftime, Monica ran onto the floor and grabbed John's arm. Startled, he turned around.

"Monica?! What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"But I'm in the middle of a game!"

"It's urgent."

John looked around for a moment, nodded, and allowed her to pull him to the side. 

"So, what's up?"

"I don't know – I mean really weird things keep happening to me."

"Weird things? What are you talking about?"

"Okay, remember at the memorial service how I like totally flipped out?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't remember any of that!"

"What?"

"I – I keep blanking things out."

"Mon – "

"And, you know what else? Today, I just like threw up out of nowhere. I felt fine before I ate, and now I feel perfectly fine again."

"Look, Monica, I have to get back. The game's starting and coach is _not _happy."

Monica looked up and noticed the coach staring harshly at them. She looked away. "But –"

"Whatever this is, it can wait. It just sounds like you're under a lot of pressure and so weird things happen to you. That's all." With that, he ran back over to the game.

"Yeah? Well, I always stress out and weird things have never happened to me before!" she yelled. 

But it was too late. He had already left. Monica sighed and walked home dejectedly. She felt so lost. She knew that whatever was happening to her was more serious than what John was saying. Yet, if her own boyfriend didn't believe her, then who would?  

- - - - - - - - - - 

Monica walked dreamily though the park, humming a happy tune to herself. She took in a deep breath of the crisp December air. Her nose and cheeks were nipped pink from the cold, yet she was unfazed. Instead, she enjoyed the peacefulness of the early morning, as the tree branches rustled in the wind and her hair flew over her eyes.

She should have been in school. Yet, how could she stay in class all day? There was a perfectly beautiful world, which the teachers never taught about, just outside the window. It didn't seem like she was breaking any rules, when she was merely experiencing life firsthand. In fact, the only crime would be keeping her inside. 

Aside from a few straggling joggers, the park was completely empty. There were no children playing on the swings, no babies crying, no couples kissing on the benches. It was in the perfect state of abandonment. She sat down behind a large tree, overlooking a bike trail, and pulled out a notebook and pen. 

The words hadn't yet left her fingers, although she could feel them at the brink. She shut her eyes and imagined a world full of letters and colors, willing the geyser of inspiration to overflow. Instead, she heard a rusting behind her, and, before she could open her eyes, she felt the cold steal against her neck and everything went completely black.

Monica sat up quickly in bed. Her heart was pounding. Her body was covered in a cold sweat.  She looked around urgently in the dark room. No matter the angle she looked in, she saw Phoebe. She shut her eyes. She shivered from fear. She heard Phoebe whispering. She ran from the room.    

**_A/N: _**_So, there you go. You people are smart. ;) Okay, I hope this fic doesn't suck now. Urgh, SAT tutor soon. Why does getting into college have to be so boring/hard? Please leave me a review. Thanks for reading! :) (there's nothing like a little randomness) _


	4. Chapter 4

**_Writings on the Wall_**_ – Chapter 4_

**_A/N: _**_Okay, this chapter is probably not as interesting, but I need to set up some things so bare with me. Anyway, I'm on a very awesome [natural] high right now, so yay! First time I've been really happy since I went back to school and found out I have one week, instead of 2 1/2 to write a 10-page research paper. A-whoo-hoo! Don't teachers just rock your socks?! =-x _

**_Disclaimer: _**_No, this characters not mine. That'd be cool if they were though. I could really go for marrying Chandler...well, Matty b/c Chandler's not real. :p Then, of course, I'd have enough money to buy Orlando Bloom, as well, and then me, Matty, Yen, and Orlando could go out on double dates and Yen and I could get pregnant with their children together (I mean separate, but at the same time!) and then we could exchange stories about how we're gold diggers and our husbands are cradle-robbing pervs. Ya, I don't own that line, either. =/_

Chandler rolled onto his side in his sleep, tucked comfortably in between the blankets on his bed. It was still dark out, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't be waking up for another two precious hours. The rain hit the roof rhythmically. Chandler was unaware of it all. Suddenly, a pebble hit his window. The soft sound was not enough to wake the peacefully dreaming Chandler. Another pebble hit the window, louder this time. The rain still blocked out the noise. though. Then, the pebbles began to hit the window at a fast pace, each bigger and louder than the one before it. Finally, Chandler sat up in bed, confused and unaware of what was happening. 

The pebbles continued to hit the window. Chandler yawned and groggily made his way to the window, thinking it was one of his friends playing a joke on him. When he looked out into the dark, he couldn't see anything. The pebbles continued to hit his window. He looked all around through the glass and the rain, straining to see who was outside of his window. 

After a minute, the pebbles stopped hitting his window. Chandler opened it and looked through the screen. He could feel the dampness of the rainy dawn. Only by the soft orange light of the dawn, was he able to make out a figure, pacing up and down his lawn. 

"Hey," he called out, "What are you doing here?" The person turned around and faced him. He did a double take. "Monica?"

"Yeah," she called meekly. 

"What are you – hold on, go to the front door."

He ran down the stairs, unlocked the door, opened it, and looked outside. She slowly rounded the corner and made her way to the door. 

"Come on, let's go inside," he coaxed, "You're gonna get sick out here!"

She entered timidly, and he was able to tell just how wet she had gotten. Her clothes were soaked through, and her hair was matted to her face. He led her upstairs, handed her a towel, sweatpants, t-shirt, and a sweatshirt, before showing her where the bathroom was. 

As he waited, he began to pace the length of his bedroom. What was she doing at his house at 4 am? It was strange. Really strange. They had only spoken to each other twice, not to mention how angry her boyfriend had seemed the first time. All remnants of sleep had left him now. He felt more awake than he had in a long time. 

When she entered his room, he stopped pacing and looked at her curiously. She looked down at her feet, as tears began to stream down her face. Chandler stared at her for a few moments. He wasn't good with girls; especially not crying ones. Still, he couldn't just stand by idly as she cried. So, he approached her and wrapped his arms around her uncomfortably. She immediately buried her face in his shoulder and let out a sob. He pulled her closer to her and rubbed circles around her back. 

After a minute, she pulled away from him and blushed a deep crimson shade. He stared at her with the same curious look as before. She took in a shaky breath. 

"I'm sorry about that…"

"No problem."

"So, I guess you wanna know why I'm here?"

"Kinda."

"I'm sorry to wake you up."

"No, it's okay. I'm just worried."

"Okay, well you probably won't believe me and maybe you're not the right person to tell, but I just have this feeling I should…"

"Umm, okay. Well, uh, what is it?"

"Okay, well all these really weird things have been happening to me. Like at the church…"

"Right?"

"I had this dream last night…and I don't know, maybe it's just my mind trying to come up with an excuse, but I saw it."

"Saw…what?"

"I saw her. _Phoebe._"

"What?"

"I _was _her."

"If this is your idea of some kind of practical joke…"

"No, I'm dead serious! I was her! I saw it! She was in the park, sitting under the tree… it was empty, she was trying to write. I felt the knife on the back of my neck, Chandler."

Chandler stared at her, a stony look on his face. He ran a finger through his hair.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you. I just thought that since you knew Phoebe and…and…all that…never mind."

She turned around and headed for the door.

"She was writing?" he asked quietly.

Monica faced him again. "Yeah."

"I'm glad she was doing what she loved to do."

"She loved to write?"

Chandler nodded hesitantly and sat down on his bed. 

"What did she write?"

"Songs, mostly. Sometimes poems. They were a little, uh, out there sometimes. Once in a while she would write something really beautiful. Otherwise, I would just pretend I thought they were great."

Monica smiled and sat down beside him.

"I've never really talked about her – when she was alive, or not."

"Why not?"

"Well, when she was alive, everyone thought I was crazy for dating her. We were so…different, outwardly. Ya know, she was deep and strange and opinionated, and I was the one always cracking jokes and…writing fake girls' phone numbers on the walls in front of the urinals."

Monica laughed, "That was you?! Ross keeps complaining about the guy who does that! He says it makes him feel uncomfortable."

Chandler tried to keep from laughing, "Sorry about that."

"No, I think it's hilarious!"

They laughed together for a few moments, before sobering. They looked at each other, remembering the previous topic. Chandler was about to continue, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Chandler? Are you awake? Is someone in there?"

Monica looked towards Chandler, panicked about his mother's reaction to her presence at such an early time. He shook his head and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. 

"Yeah, mom."

"Yeah what?"

"I'm wake."

"Well, obviously! Who's in there?!"

"No one."

"Is it a girl? Oh no," she paused, "Please tell me it's a girl, Chandler!"

Chandler audibly sighed and blushed, "Yes, mom, it's a girl."

Nora opened the door and smiled as she noticed Monica. "Well, hi there. Monica, correct?"

Monica nodded and blushed.

Nora grinned at Monica and then turned her attention towards her son.

"Don't worry, Chandler. She's always welcome here! You don't have to hide her."

"Wait, mom, she's not –"

"It's okay! I don't mind!"

"Mrs. Bing, I really –"

"What did I say you should call me last time?" she reprehended lightly.

Monica looked down, swallowing her words slightly, "Nora, we're not dating."

"Oh, you two kids don't need to hide it! I'm all for it! Especially after that Phoebe girl."

Both Chandler and Monica cringed at the mention of her name.

"You're just…a breath of fresh air, compared to her. Yes, that's it," Nora turned around and opened the door again, "Well, I'll leave you two alone."

"Yeah," Monica mumbled under her breath, "You stupid bitch."

Nora turned around again and slowly focused upon Monica. Chandler's faced paled.

"What?" she asked slowly.

Monica looked towards Nora and then to Chandler, a petrified look on her face and whispered, "What?"

"Mom, she just said, 'yeah, that stupid bitch' about Phoebe."

"Oh, okay," Nora sighed, "Well, I still have another hour to sleep. You kids have fun!"

Chandler forced a laugh, "We will."

After she left, Chandler sighed and lay down on his bed. "Sorry about her. She's crazy sometimes." 

Monica laughed, "That's okay, so is my mom."

"Yeah, I kinda remember."

They laughed again, but it quickly faded into an awkward silence.

"So, what were we, umm, saying before? About you and Phoebe?"

"Yeah, so, uh, I don't know…something about her drew me in. I guess maybe I was, ya know, lying to myself about who I really was."

Monica tilted her head, "Or maybe you're a little of both."

"What?"

"You like to joke, but you also like to be serious. It's just that everyone always knows when you joke. People just don't know when you're serious, and that's probably what bothers you." 

Chandler nodded. "Yeah…I think so."

He studied her for a few moments. She seemed genuine. But he still wasn't positive…

"Maybe you should let people see the sensitive side of you sometimes?" she continued.

"Ya know," Chandler cleared his throat, "It's almost 6 A.M. I can drive you home, if you want…we have to get to school in an hour."

Monica shook her head. "I can't go home! My mom'll kill me!"

"Well, won't she already be mad at you for leaving, anyway?"

"Of course. But this way, I won't have to get in trouble until _after _school."

"What? That's crazy!"

"Well…I left her a note."

Chandler chuckled and shook his head. Monica smiled and he noted the soft dimples on her cheeks. He had never noticed them before. 

"Well, you'll have to go to school in my clothes. I don't think there's enough time to do the laundry…especially since I don't know how."

She looked down. "Oh, right. I forgot about that. Oh well. I'll just wear them, if you don't mind."

"No, I mean it's okay with me…but what about your, ya know, boyfriend?"

"John? Urgh, I don't care. I'm mad at him, anyway."

"Really?" Chandler cleared his throat, "Uh, why?"

"Well, when I told him there was something wrong with me, he just, he didn't really seem to care."

"Oh, so you told him about the…dream?" Chandler responded, trying not to sound hurt. He thought she had reserved that secret for only him.

"No, it was before the dream. I just knew something weird was going on. He told me it was probably just stress. Of course, I _did_ interrupt him during a game, but still…"

"I believe you."    

Monica looked over at him, mild surprise showing on her face. Up until then, she wasn't sure if Chandler believed her, or was merely pacifying her. "Really?"

"Yeah, I really do."

"So, you'll help me figure this out?"

"Of course." 

Off Monica's unconvinced look, he held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Monica grasped it lightly and shook it. 

"I think we can both help each other," he whispered.

"How?"

He shrugged. "I could use a friend."

Monica smiled slightly, "So could I."

**_A/N: _**_Yen, I mentioned you this time. We even? ;) Oy, I still have to e-mail you! Well, I should get ready to go to sleep, too. Another big day ahead of me, full of a double period of physics/lab day and English class peer-editing fun. Then, I get to go to the library, take out MORE books on James Joyce, and have a research paper partay this weekend! Could my life BE any better? =p Okay, I'll stop complaining…in exchange for some nice reviews. ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Writings on the Wall_** _– Chapter 5_

**_A/N: _**_I took the SAT's this weekend…one would think, with the money that the College Board is charging for this test, that they could get us a building with…I don't know…a heater! Geeze. Haha. Okay, so, this fanfic isn't as popular as I would've hoped, but that's okay. :D I still like it. Well, I will like it. This chapter is just kind of a bridge from one part to another. I also took creative license with some "research" Chandler will find in this chapter b/c…well, it's my story and I need it to fit. ;) I hope you don't fall asleep during this. ;) Thanks for reading! _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own these characters. :'( But I do own a copy of Cosmo magazine with Matthew Perry! Haha on Friday, I bought 2 copies (I'm not that insane-obsessed – one's for my friend) and the lady at the checkout gave me this look. She could only be thinking, 'why in God's name is this girl buying **two **copies of a magazine that says "how to find your n-spot" on the cover?!' (yes, N-spot – teehee). _

_Dedicated to my Yen. Good luck on your finals! You'll do great; I know it. You're too smart for your own good. And, if you do really well, you can always come here and take my finals at the end of the year for me! ;)_

****

Monica walked to her locker and slowly gathered her books. She yawned and leaned her head on the metal door. She hadn't realized just how tired she was until she arrived at school. _At least it's Friday,_ she reminded herself. Monica closed her eyes and sighed. She was so confused. Just when she felt her life was finally looking up, nothing was right anymore. _Maybe I am insane_, she thought sadly. But Chandler believed her. So, maybe she wasn't. 

Upon hearing the first bell ring, Monica straightened, yawned again, and slammed her locker shut. She began to head to her first class, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist. She turned around and sighed.

"John…"

"No, wait, Monica. I'm really sorry about what I said before. I was just busy, ya know? My mind was on the game," he moved in closer, "But I really do care about you."

She looked up at him as he moved closer, until his forehead was leaning against his. 

"I know. It's just – I'm going through a lot right now. It hurt to hear that you didn't believe me."

"No, it's not that, I promise. I believe you."

Monica sighed and smiled slightly, "Okay."

"Okay? So we're good?"

"Yeah."

John smiled and placed a soft kiss on her lips. After a moment, the kiss intensified and his hands were roaming down Monica's back. Suddenly, his hands stopped moving. They broke apart. John looked her up and down, puzzled. 

"What are you wearing these clothes for?"

She shrugged, "I wanted something comfortable."

"Yeah, but these are _guys _clothes."

"So? A girl doesn't have the right –"

"Oh don't start that, Monica!"

"Look, they're Ross' clothes, okay? But even if they weren't, you have to _trust _me."

"They're Ross'?"

"Yes, my _brother_."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay, yeah, I mean I do trust you. I'm sorry."

Monica nodded. He was about to move in for another kiss, when she noticed just how empty the hall had gotten.

"Oh my God, I have to get to class!" she yelled, before kissing him on the cheek and running down the hall. 

John watched her as she ran, a frown residing on his face. He felt someone hit him on the shoulder, and turned around. 

"Hey Joe."

Joey looked in the same direction John was staring at. "What are we looking at?"

"Do you think Monica's cheating on me?"

Joey raised his eyebrows, "I dunno. I've never spoken to the girl."

He bit his lip and nodded, "I guess she's not. But she's acting really weird."

"What are you doing with her, anyway? I mean I thought, ever since your ex, you were done with high school girls?"

John studied Joey for a moment. "You friends with Ross Geller?"

"Who?"

"Good," he paused, "It's for the sex, dude!"

He winked at Joey and Joey reciprocated.

"Well, I gotta go, Buddy. I'll see ya around."

"Yeah, see ya."

Joey watched as John walked away. He shook his head and turned away. Even Joey wasn't desperate enough to trick a girl for sex.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The last period bell rung and Monica left the classroom as fast as she could. Finally, the day was over; the week was over. The day had been terrible. She fell asleep in math and got her first detention ever. It could only get better now. She found John waiting at her locker and fell into his arms. He kissed her hair. 

"Long day?"

"Like you'll never imagine. I just want to find Ross and get the hell out of here."

"S-so, you don't want to hang out tonight? Ya know, you can come over after school, do homework and then we'll go for dinner or something?"

"No, I'm sorry, I'm way too tired. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm about to get grounded, so I should really head home."

He titled his head, "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure," she patted his arm, "Tomorrow."

"Okay," he relented, leaning in for a kiss. 

However, before their lips touched, Monica's name was called, causing her to turn around. He groaned. 

"Hey Mon!" Ross ran over to here, "Where have you been?!"

"I went to school early."

"Mom's pissed."

Monica shrugged. Ross squinted his eyes.

"Why are you wearing mens' clothing?"

"What? No, I'm – I'm wearing your clothes."

"Huh? Those aren't my clothes."

Monica glared at him and through clenched teeth said, "Yes, they are."

"I think I would know what my clothes look like!" Ross replied, unaware of his sister's discomfort.

John studied Monica, "So they're not Ross' clothes?"

She looked down, "No."

"Well, whose are they?! Why did you have to lie?"

"Look, John, I just didn't want you to jump to conclusions!"

"Whose are they?"

"Chandler's," she mumbled.

"That bastard."

"I _swear_ we didn't do anything!"

"Oh come on! Why else would you be wearing his clothes?"

"Because I went to his house this morning, just to talk, and my clothes got wet from the rain!"

"I thought you said you went to school early?" Ross interrupted.

"Ross, just **butt out!**"

"Yeah! Why did you have to lie to your brother?! I can't believe this!"

"Look, John –" but before she could continue, he was walking angrily down the hall. 

Monica ran through the swarm of people, but couldn't find where her boyfriend had gone. She stood on her toes, looking for any trace of John, or even Chandler, so that she could warn him. Finally, Monica left the building, and saw a group of people gathered in a circle, chanting the words, "fight, fight" over and over again. Monica broke through the crowd of people. 

She gasped at what she saw. John had Chandler pinned to the ground, but every time he through a punch, Chandler would move his head out of the way. She couldn't watch anymore. 

"John!" she screamed. 

He didn't listen to her, as he continued to throw unsuccessful punches. He was getting frustrated. Suddenly, Joey broke through the crowd and pinned John's arms around his back. John struggled for a few moments, but upon realizing Joey had the advantage, stopped squirming. Chandler sighed and stared up at the sky. 

Monica shook her head. "I can't believe you, John."

"Hey, I was only doing what I'm entitled to do as the boyfriend!"

"Well, don't feel entitled anymore because you're no longer my boyfriend."

John was taken aback by her words. The rest of the people, who stopped chanting and started listening instead, gasped. 

She held her hand out to Chandler. He studied her for a few moments, before grabbing it. At first, he was a little shaky on his feet. 

"Let's go, Chandler," she demanded, before turning around. 

Chandler looked around for a few moments, before following her. The crowd cheered and whistled. John began to curse at the crowd, but his eyes never left Chandler and Monica.

- - - - - - - - - - -

They walked through the now empty school building in silence. Monica looked up and found Chandler's eyes on her.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault."

"No, I shouldn't have come over –"

"That's not true! We weren't doing anything wrong! He's just jealous."

"Yeah…"

"Look, I'm sorry that you had to break up with him, and I hope you don't feel weird around me now," he looked at the wall behind Monica, "I wasn't…kidding when I said I could use a friend though."

"Thanks, Chandler."

"I really do still wanna help you and stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Actually…" Chandler stopped and took his bookbag off his shoulder. Monica stopped and watched him curiously, "I went to the library during my study hall and I found this…" 

Chandler handed her his notebook. There was a page of handwritten notes on it. She began to read it.

"I know it isn't much," he continued, "But I mean how much are you gonna find on this in a school library?"

"Switching places with the dead," she read, "But it says here people do this willingly…" she looked up, alarmed, "Do you think we switched? But how? I mean I don't feel…dead."

Chandler shrugged. "I have no idea. But it talks about knowing things that you wouldn't necessarily know. Like that dream – her death. And my name…that first time we saw each other. You knew my name, and then you didn't."

Monica nodded and continued to read. 

"I think if we go to the public library, we might be able to find more."

Monica looked up and saw Ross heading towards them. 

"Yeah, umm, how about tonight? Or are you too busy?"

"Tonight? No, tonight's fine."

"Can you just do me a favor?" 

"Sure, what?"

Monica watched her brother anxiously, as he approached, "Don't tell anyone about this."

- - - - - - - - 

"How could you just leave, Monica?! " her mother yelled, "It was still dark - you could have gotten hurt!" 

"I'm not a baby, Mother. If I'm old enough to drive, I think I'm old enough to walk to school myself."

"Being in a car and walking outside are two different things. There are some crazy predators who would jump at the chance to steal away your innocence, Monica!"

"I was being careful!"

"I don't care. You're grounded for two weeks. The only place you can go is school."

"But Mom –"

"This discussion is over."

Monica stormed up the stairs, threw her door opened, and slammed it shut again. It wasn't fair! She was going through something that no one else even took the time to understand. Yet, now that she wanted to _fix _it, people wouldn't let her! Her _boyfriend _thought she was cheating on him, her mother thought she was being irresponsible…Monica sighed. She wasn't going to let this get her down. 

She picked up her phone and sifted through the phonebook for a few seconds. Then, she found the number she was looking for and carefully dialed it. 

"Hey, Chandler?" Monica began, "Yeah, about tonight…can you meet me around the side of the house?" 

**_A/N: _**_I promise this'll get more interesting. Well, my opinion of interesting, heh. :'( Well, I'm going to get back to my **snowday** (yayee! *dances*) and watch more movies. I just finished _** _The Whole Nine Yards_**_. I think I'll watch some of **Fools Rush In**…again. Haha that movie is so bad that it's good. "Shit, sorry, shit!" Haha Yen. ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Writings on the Wall – _**_Chapter 6_

**_A/N: _**_Right, so I kind of neglected this fic. :/ Oops. I've been tres stressed as of lately, which really sucks. So, I've had time to **think **of fics, but not time to **write **them. Anyway, sorry if this fic totally sucks now. In other news, my ass is completely asleep and Yen has introduced me to the wonderful world of LOTR slash *cough*elfhood*cough* [/too much info] Please read and review, thanks! :)_

**_Dedication: _**_To my Darling Waffle. I continued this for you! :) *chases dust balls*_

****__

Monica sifted through the pile of books on the desk and sighed. She had been searching for an hour, but no case she read about seemed to parallel her own. She opened another book and flipped through the index. After a moment, she slammed it down on the table. Nothing! Maybe this was all in her head…

"Can I help you?" a librarian asked, irritated by the manner in which Monica was handling the books.

"No, no, I'm okay," Monica answered quickly.

The librarian gave her an uneasy look, before walking away, muttering something about the behavior of teenagers today. 

Monica sat down, leaning her head on the table as she flipped half-heartedly through the same books again. Soon after, Chandler came over to her, empty-handed. He sat down beside her, feeling like just as much of a failure as she did. 

"They're closing soon," he mumbled.

She sighed, "I guess we should leave then. Sorry to waste your time."

"You didn't waste my time!" Monica looked away, "I mean it, Monica."

She nodded and began to put the books away, cutting Chandler off before he could continue. She was beginning to doubt herself, but Chandler still believed her. He had no proof; it was a gut feeling. Maybe he did not normally believe in supernatural things, but, for some reason, he did believe in _her_. He watched her for a moment, before beginning to help her put away the rest of the books.

- - - - -

They walked home in silence. Every so often, Monica snuck a glance at Chandler, able to make out his facial features by the streetlights. Why was he sticking by her? She wanted to be suspicious of his intensions, but she could not be. There was something truly genuine about his desire to help. And it was not as if he was a complete stranger; Ross was friends with him. 

She stole another glance, but before she could turn away, he noticed her looking at him. She turned away quickly, suddenly aware of the heat of her cheeks against the cool night air. Monica could feel Chandler's eyes on her, as the sound of their shoes hitting the ground permeated through the night. However, they continued to walk in the same silent manner, neither knowing what to say to make the situation less awkward.

When they got to Monica's house, she stopped right at the property line. The light in her parent's room was still on. Assuming her mother knew nothing of her absence, she would need to wait until her mother went to sleep before she could sneak back into the house. 

"What's wrong?" Chandler wondered, when he noticed Monica was not going into her house.

"Can't go home," she whispered, "My mom's still awake."

"Well," he stuttered, "We could, ya know, take a walk or something."

Monica smiled, "Yeah, okay." 

Monica began to walk past her house, and, after a moment, Chandler caught up to her. 

"Why were you grounded?" 

"Oh, because, ya know, I left the house yesterday when I shouldn't have."

"Oh, well…I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You helped me."

He blushed, but Monica could not see the shade of his face in the night. They continued to walk in silence, until Monica felt they were a safe distance from her house. 

"Let's sit," she said, motioning to the curb. 

Chandler nodded and took off his jacket, so that she could sit on it. Monica began to laugh. 

"That's so old fashion!"

"Fine then," he said, and removed the coat just as Monica was about to sit on it. 

She laughed, "Well, it's still sweet."

"Thanks."

"Until you removed it…" she continued.

"Well, you were making fun of me!"

She laughed and then they were silent again. Chandler found a pebble and began to roll it in the palm of his hand, while Monica just stared out at the street, watching as cars drove past. 

"I'm crazy," Monica stated suddenly.

"What?"

"I must be. Look, we should just stop –"

"You're not crazy."

Monica turned and stared at him, eyes challenging, "How do you know?"

"Well," he paused, "I don't know how, but I do. You need to have faith in yourself…in what you feel deep down."

Monica continued to stare, unintentionally inching closer to him. "If you believe me," she whispered, lips just inches away from his, "Then I do, too."

Chandler felt her warm breath on his face, as he leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. Monica parted her lips, as Chandler kissed her again, this time slipping his tongue in her mouth. Chandler wrapped his arms around her, clinging to the feel of her body against his. Something felt so perfect about the kiss, but neither could figure out what. Monica ran her fingers through his hair with each stroke of his tongue against hers, all thoughts far from her mind.

Suddenly, her whole world went blank, and she began to fall deeper and deeper into a spiral of complete darkness. She could feel the searing pain in her head, hear her screams, but could not free herself. She continued to fall into the bottomless pit, as all perception of time and place flew from her mind. 

Five minutes passed. Monica found herself lying on her back on the cold sidewalk. Chandler was crouched next to her, rubbing her arm and desperately talking to her. She could barely make out the words at first, as they sounded unclear and distant. Slowly, she began to feel alive again, and his words became comprehensible.

"Monica? Monica, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered slowly, shutting her eyes tightly, "What happened?"

"I don't know," he answered quietly, "We should get you home."

She nodded blankly, and took his hand when he offered it. Walking slowly and clutching her aching head in her hands, the two of them walked back in silence. Neither wanted to contemplate what had just occurred. They feared the results would not be favorable.

- - - - -

Monica opened the front door slowly, and cringed as it squeaked slightly on its hinges. She took off her shoes and put them in the closet, before walking carefully through the dark living room. She was about to head up the stairs, when she saw someone moving in the corner of the room. She gasped, and put a hand to her chest, as she noticed it was Ross, sitting on one of the chairs. 

"What are you doing out here?!" she hissed.

"What are _you _doing out here?!" 

"Nothing. Go away and mind your own business!"

"You were out with that sleezy John, weren't you?"

"Not that it's _any _of your business, but no, I wasn't."

"Pfft."

"We broke up yesterday, Ross! Why would I be out with him?"

Ross paused, contemplating her words. "Well then where were you? You're grounded! You're not supposed to be out!"

"Hey, you don't know what it's like to be grounded so don't start…"

"Well, I behave. I don't need to be grounded," he answered, pride evident in his voice.

"Yeah, right.

He crossed his arms over his chest, "If you don't tell me where you were, I'll tell mom you were out."

"You wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't I?

"Shut up, asshole."

"Mom!" Ross yelled.

Quickly, Monica ran over to Ross and covered his mouth with her hand. "Shut up!" she paused, "All right, I'll tell you." Ross smiled smugly, "I was at the library."

"Yeah right, Mo –"

"I was at the library," she continued angrily, "With _Chandler_."

"Chandler? Chandler as in Chandler Bing, Chandler?"

"How many other Chandlers do you know?"

"What?! What are you doing going out with _my_ friends?!"

"Look, Ross…we're friends, okay? And he's helping me out."

"With what?"

"With…science."

Ross furrowed his brow, "Chandler sucks at Science. He failed Biology," he paused, "You're lying."

"Okay, okay, fine. But you're not going to believe me."

"Go on…"

"Well, Chandler and I think that…maybe, in some form…his dead girlfriend has possessed my body."

"What?! That's crazy! You're lyi –"

"Shh!" she hissed, "_Really _weird things have been happening to me lately. It's the only explanation."

"That's insane! I'm sure it's nothing a doctor can't fix."

"Look, _Ross_, the doctors _haven't _found out what was wrong with me, did they?" he stared blankly at her, "Besides, I'm not asking you to agree with what I'm saying. I'm just asking you to respect it. If you care about me, then you'll respect it."

He sighed, "Fine. But I don't completely trust Chandler…"

"Fine, you don't have to. I do."

"But –"

"And if he ever makes me feel like I shouldn't trust him, then I won't. Right now all he's been is caring. Just please don't make a big deal out of anything?"

"All right," he relented.

Monica hugged him and then began to head up the stairs. She stopped and turned around, "This is just between us, right? You're not going to tattle on me?"

"Right," Ross muttered.

"Thanks! I love you."

Ross watched as his sister bolted up the stairs and into her room. After seventeen years of living under the same roof as him, she had never said she loved him. He smiled and slowly climbed the stairs to his own room. He could keep her secret, even if she was going insane. 

**_A/N: _**_So, is this worth continuing or should I just throw it down the pooper? _


End file.
